Page 60 of Dukes for Dessert

David wandered the abbey ruins, one eye on the path to the vicarage below. The field with the Roman villa lay in the distance, tiny figures moving about the earth there.

He had to admit that Dr. Gaspar had done remarkable work. He and Pierson had uncovered more of the mosaic and then discovered a wall with an intact painting—a trompe l’oiel of a window into a garden.

This had been the “amazing development” that had made Dr. Pierson send an excited message summoning David and Sophie, the two of them at the same time. As though they belonged together.

David had departed at once, for reasons of his own, leaving Sophie to sleep.

Now he wondered if she’d bother coming. Why should she desert Eleanor’s very comfortable house for the mist and rain of Pierson’s fields? She could view Pierson’s discoveries at any time. David would end up climbing back onto a train, chugging to London, and having his tete-a-tete with her in the Grosvenor Square house with the very nosy Mackenzies looking on.

At least Griffin wasn’t at the dig. As David suspected, the overly pampered man would stay home until Pierson and Dr. Gaspar unearthed the entire villa and then swan in and claim the credit. Ah well. Griffin’s funding would let Pierson excavate to his heart’s content and provide a salary to the penniless Gaspar. Best of all, Griff would leave David alone. All thanks to Sophie.

Dr. Pierson appeared far below along the path to the villa, walking briskly. After a moment, a woman rushed to catch up to him with a flurry of skirts, a large hat shielding her from the mists. She fell into step with Pierson—he was taking her to see the mural.

David stilled, his blood flashing cold, then hot.

True, a wall painting from ancient times was rare and important. But to David, at this moment, it didn’t matter at all.

He leaned on a ruined stone wall and watched them. He could rush down and across the mile of field and join them, but David feared if he did so, the spell that had woven around him and Sophie would break.

She’d evaporate, never having existed, or worse, she’d look at him with neutral welcome and be far more interested in seeing her uncle’s wall than David. Or she’d be ashamed of how beautiful and uninhibited she’d been in his bed.

The memory flared of her rising to his touch, her hot kisses on his flesh—and David’s body responded. Most inconvenient while he stood on a cold hilltop, the bones of an ancient scriptorium for company.

Sophie’s steps were animated on the path below, her excitement about Pierson’s find evident. They disappeared behind trees for a long moment, then emerged even farther away, Gaspar coming to greet them.

David burned as Gaspar took Sophie’s hand. He balled his hands on the stone wall, ready to dash down and rip Gaspar away from her, but he stopped himself. He’d look like a fool, and Sophie would disdain him.

She was here. That was all that mattered.

Sophie spoke with the archaeologists for a long time, vanishing toward the villa with Pierson and emerging ten minutes later. Dr. Gaspar hovered next to her, but Sophie turned from him and embraced her uncle. Congratulating Pierson, happy for him.

They stepped apart, Sophie tilting her head to look up at Pierson, her body conveying inquiry. Dr. Pierson glanced about as though searching for something, then he turned and pointed at the abbey on the hill.

David froze. Sophie couldn’t possibly see him hiding up here, but he felt her gaze as she peered at the ruins.

She settled her hat, waved at the gentlemen, and began her ascent toward the abbey.

David’s body went ice cold. Dratted wind.

He rushed about, kicking aside pebbles and dusting off the top of the wall on which he’d leaned, as though tidying his house for a visitor. Ridiculous. He made himself cease and leaned on a stone pillar, as though he’d come here to do nothing more than a little birdwatching.

Even so, his heart raced as she walked up the hill, taking her time. It was a steep climb, after all, but David could wait no longer.

He gave up his pose and jogged down to meet her, escorting her the last yards. When they reached level ground at the top of the hill, Sophie did not remove her hand from the crook of his arm, her gloved fingers warm.

“The wall they’ve found is lovely,” she said with enthusiasm. “Colors quite beautiful.”

“Indeed worthy of the command that dragged me from London at an ungodly hour,” David said, pleased he could speak with his usual sarcasm. “Oh, forgot. No hour is ungodly. Just dark, cold, and disagreeable.”

Sophie smiled at his feeble wit. “You did not have to rush off, you know. We could have traveled together.”

“I wanted to ask your uncle a few questions. And if I’d been alone with you in a train carriage …” David glanced down and found her green eyes on him—the eyes that had filled with passion last night in the firelight.

He thought of the many things they could have done in a train carriage, in spite of the cramped space. It involved Sophie’s legs around him as she faced him on his lap, or she on her knees on the seat …

David gulped a lungful of cold wind and forced the images away. He’d never be able to speak, let alone stand up, if he continued with his fantasies.

“What did you wish to ask Uncle Lucas about?” Sophie’s look was innocent—she couldn’t read his mind, thank heaven.

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